


Mean It

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Good Enough [7]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 NHL Season, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hangover, M/M, Team as Family, Tourette's Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: He’s drunker than he thought. Brad does everything in his power to try and act normal so that Patrice doesn’t realize this fact. Well. Whatever. Torey’s hiding somewhere nearby with Brad’s cell phone, filming this so that Brad can hold up the evidence tomorrow and say “Yes! I meant it!” despite being fucking smashed.“Um. Like. I don’t have… um… the thing you’re s’posed to have when you ask this, but… um…” Fuck. Fuck, he’s drunk, and he doesn’t even have… It all comes out at once, with no space between words. “Bergywillyoumarryme?”[For anyone scared to read this because they think Tourette's is some horrible disease, it's not. It's commonly portrayed in media as the behavior disorder that makes you scream swear words at people no matter how inaccurate that really is.]





	Mean It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For Trua, as always, because you like this series :)

Brad tics more when he’s been drinking.

He notices this now… like, he already knew this was true, but right now it’s getting really obvious. He’s read things on forums and shit about Tourette’s and how drinking helps some people, but for him, it just makes things worse…

…or maybe it’s the nervousness.

Because he’s standing outside the bar following a game, with Patrice in front of him, after multiple beers and he’s snapping his fingers like crazy. Brad’s so scared. He has no idea how this will go, once he actually asks.

“What’s up?” Patrice asks as Brad stands there like an idiot.

“Um. So I just wanted to…” He makes a popping noise and interrupts himself - something he hasn’t done since he was eight years old. Fuck. “I wanted to ask you about something, but. Like. The guys don’t really need to know about this yet.”

His boyfriend’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Okay. Is something wrong?”

Shit, he’s drunker than he thought. Brad does everything in his power to try and act normal so that Patrice doesn’t realize this fact. Well. Whatever. Torey’s hiding somewhere nearby with Brad’s cell phone, filming this so that Brad can hold up the evidence tomorrow and say “Yes! I meant it!” despite being fucking smashed.

“Um. Like. I don’t have… um… the thing you’re s’posed to have when you ask this, but… um…” Fuck. Fuck, he’s drunk, and he doesn’t even have… It all comes out at once, with no space between words. “Bergywillyoumarryme?”

Patrice gawks for a second. “Brad, did you say what I think you said?”

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding too quickly. “Uh. I know I’m. Like. Seriously drunk right now, but. It’s not related. I was. Um. Gonna. Ask you anyway.”

Patrice still stares with his mouth open for longer than Brad is comfortable with. Finally he closes his mouth long enough to swallow. “I… wow. Don’t you think we should talk about this when you’re sober?”

“But… like… we just won a game,” Brad protests, holding out both hands.

“Brad, you’re drunk,” Patrice sighs. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking right now.”

“Um… but… does it matter?” he asks, feeling like he got kicked in the gut.

“It really does,” Patrice nods, smiling a little. “How about this. Ask me again tomorrow, when you’ve slept this off, and we’ll see.”

Brad frowns, then nods. Just nodding screws up his balance a little. He reaches out and Patrice catches him, holds him still so he can get his bearings back. “I just love you so much,” he confesses, like he hasn’t said it a hundred times before.

Patrice is still smiling. “I know you do. It’s okay, Brad.” He pulls Brad closer to be tucked safely under his arm. “Let’s go home… like I said, we can talk about this tomorrow.”

Brad nods agreeably. “Yeah.” His head jerks and his fingers snap. He tics more when he’s been drinking.

 

When Brad wakes up his head feels like there’s a railroad spike driven into it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groans, rolling onto his back and coughing.

There’s nothing else for a few seconds, then a palm is lifting his head and a glass gets pressed to his mouth. “Here, drink.”

Brad obeys. It’s not like he has much choice. The glass is full of water, and he’s not sure how much he manages to swallow before he starts to choke. The glass is pulled away and he’s allowed to lean back again. He drifts, waiting for his forehead to stop crushing his brain, and then someone’s gently pressing his shoulder. When he looks, it’s his boyfriend, who’s messy-haired in sleep clothes and yet still gorgeous like always.

“Hey,” Patrice whispers, smiling to him, “you want some breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Brad croaks, accepting some marginal help getting up. He stumbles into the kitchen and manages to sit without falling on his ass. Eggs, toast and juice are put in front of him, which he chokes down no matter how much he feels like he’s going to throw up. “Pat, did I bring my phone home with me?” he asks.

“Kind of,” Patrice shrugs. “Torey had it, for some reason.”

Brad smiles, despite his miserable state. “Good.” He reaches out limply across the table and it’s put into his hand. “He was… I asked him to help me out.” Brad squints at the screen as he unlocks it and pulls up the video. He doesn’t make it start playing, but he’s glad there’s at least proof. It means he didn’t just imagine the previous night. “Pat, I want you to know I meant it.”

Patrice raises an eyebrow, obviously somewhere between curious and confused. “You meant what?”

Brad shrinks a little, then bucks up. He needs to be brave. “Yesterday night when I was drunk I asked you to marry me. I was being serious.”

His boyfriend gawks, which… okay, that may or may not be bad. Finally Patrice remembers to breathe, and he gasps sharply inward before saying anything. “Brad, wow. I… I thought you were…”

“Look, if I freaked you out, you can-you can think about it for a little bit,” he offers frantically before rubbing the sides of his aching head. “I didn’t mean to get hammered like that, but I was already planning to ask you. The rookies dragged me off and I got trashed.”

Patrice is just staring at him with huge eyes. Brad’s not sure how to feel about that, because he’s hungover and that’s already making him sick as it stands. Torey helpfully filmed this taking place for him, but Patrice is still the only guy on the entire team that knows about Brad’s disability. He wonders if Patrice thinks he’s just ticcing and saying things he doesn’t actually mean, even though this is one of the few times he really _does_ mean what he says.

“I just… I… oh my god,” Patrice whimpers, clamping a palm over his own mouth as his eyes water. He won’t look at Brad. Fuck. Fuck, this is bad. “I… give me a second…”

Brad collapses onto the table, scrunching his eyes closed and covering his head with his arms. He fucked up so bad. He shouldn’t have said anything. Or at the very least he should’ve waited. Something. There’s _something_ he should’ve done different, and he’s really not sure what it is, because he made Patrice cry and that’s not okay. Brad chews his bottom lip to hamburger as he tries to get a grip on himself, but his whole body is trembling and he can’t stop it.

Hand. Arm. There’s a hand stroking down his hair and an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug. Brad’s pressed into his boyfriend’s chest and he grabs blindly, returning the embrace as tight as he can and unable to hold back part of a sob. Fuck. He fucked up, he shouldn’t have said anything, he’s such a dumbass and now he’s thrown a wrench into his relationship…

Patrice kisses his forehead. He’s not expecting it. “Brad, Brad… babe, don’t cry… did you think I was going to say no?”

Brad nods against Patrice’s shoulder and hiccups before another sob, a whole one this time, escapes his throat. “Yeah,” he whines, tangling his fingers into his boyfriend’s shirt.

He’s gently pulled the rest of the way out of his chair to stand up, and Patrice lifts his head enough to kiss the spot between his eyebrows. Brad just looks up, sadly and with bleary eyes, not knowing what he should be doing other than _this isn’t it._

Patrice rocks him a little, still hugging him securely and gazing softly down into his face. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Calm down, Brad, you’re okay. I’m not going anywhere…”

Brad remembers - this isn’t the first time Patrice has said that to him, because the first time was years and years back. Their relationship was new, less than two months old, and Brad (used to saying this anyway) had told Patrice he loved him. Then Patrice said it back and Brad burst into tears, because he wasn’t expecting it and it made him so anxious - he didn’t think he deserved it - but so happy at once. His boyfriend had panicked, wiping at his face and apologizing over and over again for making Brad cry until Brad could finally explain what was going on and how he really felt. In response, Patrice had held him so tight and kissed his whole face, promising that he wasn’t going anywhere, ever.

“I’m sorry,” Brad sniffs, rubbing his face against his boyfriend’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to…”

He’s so anxious and feels so stupid that he can’t even finish a sentence. Brad chews the inside of his mouth and clings to Patrice as he waits for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s okay,” Patrice repeats gently, rubbing Brad’s back a little with one hand. “You’re okay… I wasn’t trying to make you panic. And I’m glad you meant it, because last night I thought you were only asking because you were drunk. But… since you _did_ mean it… the answer’s yes.”

It takes Brad a lot longer than it should for him to understand what’s going on here… Patrice said yes.

Patrice said _yes._

Brad raises his head to make eye contact, not sure if this is actually happening. “Really?”

Patrice smiles, kind and patient and beautiful and so many other things Brad probably couldn’t name - “Yeah.” - and then kisses him gently.

 

At the next practice, everyone figures out pretty quickly that something’s up, because Brad’s being even more clingy than usual with Patrice. The only ones who know what it is, though, are Torey (of course), Z, and Cassidy. Brad just keeps sticking to his boyfriend - no, fiancé - like a set of wet clothes that won’t come off, completely unapologetic about his behavior even when it starts to disrupt drills and scrimmages. At that point, Z comes over and talks to him in the corner, and he tries a little harder to stop being a jackass.

Finally, once in the locker room again, it’s Tuukka who demands to know: “What the fuck is up with you two today?”

Patrice cocks an eyebrow and slowly grins - they already talked about this, that he should be the one to say it because he can actually stay calm and talk coherently. “So… we’re getting married.”

Immediately there’s a press of bodies, everyone still half-dressed in sweaty hockey pads but insisting on hugging them both. The team knew about their relationship pretty much since it began in the first place (mainly due to Brad’s lack of subtlety), but this still seems to surprise them despite that.

And then Kevan says this to Patrice: “So, you finally asked him?”

Patrice turns pink. “No, actually. It ended up being the other way around. He beat me to it.”

Now, Brad gets repeatedly slapped on the back. He straightens up on the bench and preens at the attention, even though really he’s only interested in the way his fiancé is looking at him right now. After a moment, though, the usual stupidity of a hockey dressing room kicks in, because someone (Brad’s not paying attention to who, but he thinks it’s one of the rookies) incites everyone to stamp their feet and start chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” over and over.

They both laugh, but eventually oblige, which earns them tons of chirping and whistling, but none of it is malicious so they don’t mind. As everyone finishes changing out of their gear among the insanity, Brad’s glad most of the attention is on Patrice because he has some motor tics (finger snapping and slapping the soles of his feet against the floor) and this way nobody notices.

“So when’s it happening?” Dobby wonders.

“No idea,” Brad answers. “I asked him, like. Two days ago.”

Everything dissolves into jokes as the team finishes getting ready to leave, asking things ranging from which one of them will wear a dress to whether the theme to the 1979 Superman movie will play when Patrice walks down the aisle. Then one of the rookies quietly wants to know who’ll be invited.

“Everyone,” Patrice assures. “Everyone will be invited.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of the story, where Brad is drunk, was written while I myself was drunk last night following game 7.


End file.
